His Last Chance

Chapter 14

Trigger warning: Self harm scars

It's 5:39 by the time I pick up my bag and leave the studio. Martin's locking up tonight, so I don't have to worry about that.

"Hey Martin!" I call to him from across the room.

"Yeah?"

"So hi to Bobby for me would you? And tell him to come in for the premier! I haven't seen him in forever!"

"Will do! Is Ollie coming?"

"Dunno yet, he might be working at the restaurant. I'll let you know!"

"Alright, see you tomorrow y/n!"

"Bye!"

The heat outside is unbearable. I'm in my car with the roof up and windows closed, air conditioning on full blast.

I took of my shawl a little while ago, so I'm just in my little tank top. It's alright, I'm only going back to the flat, I'm not stopping anywhere on the way.

The seatbelt digs into my shoulder, and my hands tap on the red-hot steering wheel as I sing along to Living On A Prayer while I wait at a red light. Gotta love a classic.

I sit for a minute. Two minutes. It's nearly three minutes before the light finally changes to green. There's a supermarket coming up on my left.

"Oooooh should I?" I ask myself. "Yeah why not. Got plenty of time."

With the indicator switched on, I turn right and steer the car into the parking lot. A quick check to make sure I've got my purse before I exit the car and lock it behind me.

There's a refreshing gust of cool air as the automatic doors open to allow me into the shop.

"What to do? What to make?"

I decide on brownies, and navigate my way through the aisles in search of chocolate, flour, butter, sugar and eggs.

"Free sample, miss?" A clerk asks me as he offers out a board of cheese.

"Sure, thanks. What is it?"

"It's our new supply of mozzarella and feta cheeses."

"Mm," I chew a piece of mozzarella. "That's delicious. Is it out on the shelves yet?"

"No not yet. But we do have some of the pre-sale bags of grated or wheel blocks of you're interested?"

"Yeah, I think I will. I'll take a wheel of mozzarella, thanks."

"Absolutely. And thank you, miss. Have a lovely evening."

"You too," I give him a friendly smile and a nod as I walk away.

Next stop, eggs.

There's an entire aisle just for eggs. Small, medium, large. Free range, barn-raised. Different brands. Chicken eggs, duck eggs.

I pick up a box of medium free-range eggs and open it, inspecting each egg to make sure they're all intact.

There's a small child staring at me.

A young girl, clinging to the hand of her mother, is just there, staring at me.

I give her a smile and a small wave.

She pulls on the sleeve of her mother, and I carry on checking my eggs.

"Mummy," she says, pulling the sleeve again. "Mummy look."

"What is it darling?" The woman is distracted by something on her phone.

"Look! She's got pretty patterns on her arm!"

Her mother, confused at these 'pretty patterns', looks up from her phone to where her young daughter is pointing. Directly at me.

Her eyes widen slightly, before they harden as she looks at me.

She wraps an arm around her little girl. "Sweetheart, that's not a pretty pattern. That's what crazy people do and then they end up looking like that. Hold my hand, come on. Stay with me."

The mother throws me an angry and disgusted glare as she ushers her daughter in the opposite direction to me.

I completely forgot my shawl. It's sat in the passenger seat of my car.

Bollocks.

I swallow hard as I try to push the tears down, quickly thrust the eggs into my basket and hurry towards the checkout, holding my arm against my body.

There's a self service checkout machine free, so I almost run for it so that no-one else can use it, and I can get out of here as quickly as I can.

Chocolate. Scan. Eggs. Scan. Cheese. Scan. Butter. Scan.

I don't have the flour or sugar, but I'm not going back through to look for it. I'll just have to see if I've got it at home.

As fast as I can, I push my contactless card against the machine, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot as I wait for the transaction to go through.

It finally does, and I throw my shopping in my bag, grab my receipt, and try to walk calmly toward the exit. If I run, they might think I'm shoplifting.

The automatic doors open to let me leave, and then I speed up to make it to my car.

My keys are at the bottom of my bag.

I fumble around, under my purse and under my shopping and under my notebook. Finally I manage to grab the car keys. But my hands are shaking so much that I drop them on the floor.

"Goddamit. Come on!" I mumble as I bend down to pick them up.

There's a deep clunk when I press the button, and the car finally unlocks.

"Thank fuck."

I toss my bag on the passenger seat, on top of the shawl that I so stupidly forgot, and I thrust the key into the ignition.

It takes a few attempts, but I try moving a bit slower, and manage to get it in and turn it in the slot.

"Okay, breathe. Concentrate."

I take a few seconds, but can't wait much longer before I pull out of the parking lot. I need to get home. I don't care how mad I am at Ollie, I need him right now.

Is that woman right. Am I crazy? Sure, I know I make bad decisions and half the time I piss people off or push people away who try to help me and my life is a shambles..... But surely that doesn't make me crazy. It's a coping mechanism, not exactly worthy of the looney bin.

I make the turnings, almost as if I'm on autopilot and, before I realise it, I'm pulling into my parking space into the garage I've the road to the flats.

Grab the bag from the seat, grab the shawl which somehow ended up on the floor of the car, grab the keys from the ignition but don't put them away yet cause you need then to lock the car and get into the flat.

Up the first floor. Up the second floor. Onto the third floor. Second door on the right.

The process of putting the key in the lock and turning it 3 times to the left is done  automatically and easily.

I shut the door with a shaking hand, put my bag down in the hallway and quickly walk over to the living room, then I sit down onto the sofa before I can fall over.

"Y/n?" It sounds like he's in the bedroom.

I can't be mad at him right now. It's too much.

"Ollie? I need you."